


kindness and respect

by salazarastark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Arranged Marriage, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/pseuds/salazarastark
Summary: Lady Sansa is due to marry Prince Jon





	kindness and respect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittyhugs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyhugs/gifts).

He’s handsome. Sansa had not expected that. She doesn’t know why the thought had not occurred to her. King Rhaegar and Aunt Lyanna are beautiful. Why shouldn’t their son be?

Prince Jon is tall with long brown hair, a long face, and solemn gray eyes. He takes after the Stark side in his family, but she thinks she sees small details of the Targaryens in him. The tilt of his head, the shape of his eyes, the long and graceful fingers. Little things that show the dragon inside.

Of course, she wishes that the first time she can lay eyes on her new husband is not when she’s walking down the aisle of the sept to marry him.

His eyes are unreadable, hiding his true feelings and she doesn’t know what he thinks about her. She hopes he likes her. She wants to please him.

She can feel the gaze of all the church upon her and the Seven as well, but she keeps her gaze straight ahead. Her legs want to tremble, but she forces them to be still. She is a Stark of Winterfell and she will be strong, even though she had never thought that she would be married to this man.

Only a few short months ago, he was the younger brother of Aegon, a man that she had grown to know well over his letter and his trips to Winterfell. She had been friends with Aegon, and in time, she imagines how she could have easily come to love him.

But he had fallen ill during a visit to Dorne, an illness that everyone thought he would quickly recover from.

He had died four days after his first cough.

King Rhaegar had decided that the girl who had spent her entire life being raised to become queen was the best option to marry his second son, since Prince Jon had never officially been betrothed, though she knows that there were many rumors about his hand, most prominently Margaery Tyrell.

The Tyrells are smiling pleasantly enough, but Sansa can read the pinched lines in their faces. They are furious they were unable to get their hands in the spare before he ascended to the heir.

Finally, she reaches the end of the aisle and turns to stare in soon-to-be-husbands impassive face. She gives him a small smile, one that he does not return.

Sansa closes her eyes for a brief moment as the septon begins the service, and prays that her marriage will at least be fruitful with children that she can love and devote her time towards.

It is clear that her husband is not willing to give her anything else.

*

The wedding feast is loud, with the wine and the food flowing and everyone partaking in the festivities. Everyone it feels like except for Sansa and her new husband. Sansa has a glass of wine that she has hardly taken any sips out of, and Jon has taken maybe four or five drinks out of his. He’s picking at his food, and for the first time in the night, Sansa can tell that he is actually _ nervous _. It’s strange how it never occurred to her before right now that it might be the case, but as it hits her, it also relaxes her muscles. She has nothing to worry about, or perhaps at least not as much as she thought.

But Prince Jon’s nervousness does not necessarily mean a good thing for her. He might still be hesitant to take her in, to love her as a man loves a wife. She just hopes that he will do his duty in a way that won’t cause her pain.

Time passes slowly, and yet it’s much sooner than she realized or was prepared for when Prince Joffrey jumps up and shouts with glee that it’s time for the bedding, and Sansa’s heart starts to sink in her chest as she shakes her head in desperation. She does not want to go through the bedding, even if it is tradition.

And she doesn’t even notice that Jon sees it, not until a sharp voice says, “Must we? She is their future queen and I do not want them staring at her in a state of undress.” His eyes flick to her, and she knows what he has done and hope sparks in her chest.

Perhaps this marriage won’t be the worst thing in the world, perhaps she will be happy and loved with this man after all. He does not care about others view her, he only cares about her comfort. And that is a man that she can respect.

The other men in the dining hall grumble, especially Prince Joffrey, but King Rhaegar raises a hand. “My son has a point,” he says in his low voice. “You must respect your future queen, and that begins tonight, with the decree of your future king.”

He is challenging the other men to say something and none of them dare. Sansa wonders if she will learn how to command a room like that, because she can see how useful a skill it is and desperately wants to know.

Prince Jon rises and holds out a hand to her, one that she takes to help balance her as she stands. She smiles, though she knows that it does not reach her eyes. “My wife and I will retire for the evening,” Prince Jon announces, “but you’re all free to stay and enjoy the food and wine that my step-mother has worked so tirelessly to prepare for you.”

Queen Cersei is staring at the hall with pursed lips, and Sansa does not think that she liked having to take care of a feast for her step-son, the one person who stands in the way between her son and the Iron Throne.

She fears this woman, but tamps down these thoughts. Like it or not, Cersei is now a member of her family and one that she must deal with.

And one that she must keep a strong watch on.

Jon walks her to the bedroom, and their footsteps echoed on the stone floor. “Thank you,” she says into silence. “That was kind of you.”

“I’ve never seen anyone go that white,” Jon tells her plainly. “It didn’t seem right to let you go through that.”

Even if she never falls in love with this man, her marriage has hope and the promise of something devent. If he’s a man who can care about her like this, then he is a man who can care for their children.

“We don’t have to bed tonight either,” he says, the words sounding clumsy on his tongue. “My father will not ask for proof. We will eventually have to consummate this marriage for heirs, but we have time. No one will suspect anything for months.”

He’s telling the truth. She can see it in his eyes. If she asks him to, he will let her sleep peacefully in a bed and not touch her until she comes to him. She can take all the time in the world to prepare.

She doesn’t want to wait. Not only for children, though she can’t deny that it is a major factor, but also because she wants to be close to him. He is a handsome man, and she feels a slow warmth in her blood and body as she looks at him.

“If you will have me, I would like you to escort me to my room tonight.” Her voice is dry and it cracks, and she feels the smile on her face when he looks at her in shock. It probably looks twisted and fake, but she sees the leap of interest in his eyes. He wants her. “And I would like you to enter the bed with me.”

He smiles, real and true for the first time this night and it is breathtaking. She hopes their children inherit that smile. “Of course, Princess.”

Princess. That’s right, she is a princess.

She straightens her back and smiles. That thought sends a thrill of power through her. She has always known of the path of her life, but knowing that she is now a princess and will one day be queen is very different when the title applies to her now.

The walk to her room is over quicker than she expected and they only barely manage to get through the door before Jon grabs her waist and pulled her close to him, leaned down his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss that lights the fire in her to a raging burn.

“Tell me to stop the moment you need me to do,” he says, pulling away for a moment and Sansa shakes her head. She doesn’t foresee that happening, not when her thighs are drenched at the thought of bedding him tonight. She leads his fingers to them, and he moans when he feels the slick that he is causing in her. 

“I want you,” she growls. “_ Take _ me.”

A muffled laugh escapes his lips. “Of course, princess. Whatever you need.”

He leans back down to kiss her, grips her thighs and then encircles her legs around his waist as he walks towards the bed, laying her down gently and carefully. He breaks the kiss just when Sansa feels like she would have to pull back if she didn’t want to die from lack of air. She pants as her new husband just moves his mouth down to her throat, then to between her breasts, then to her stomach, and then to her. . . 

_ Ohsevenhells _.

All she does is focus on his hands on her hips and his mouth is on _ that part _of her and she feels a strange heat building up in the base of her spine, and the next thing she knows she has a hand fisting in the sheets and an arm thrown over her eyes and she is moaning harder and harder and then she is yelling out a wordless scream.

The rippling waves of heat are still rolling over her body as Jon pulls his mouth away from her, and she whimpers at that. Her cheeks burn, at how quickly he made her utterly at his mercy. 

Jon looks down at her. “Can I continue, my lady?” he asks, and Sansa nods.

He pushes into her, and she squirms at how sensitive she feels. He waits for her to get adjusted to the feeling, for her to nod so he can continue, and then he does and it feels _ glorious _.

He fucks her slowly and gently. Unlike her previous orgasm, which came hard and fast, this one comes slower, though it feels just as good. She feels undone and out of control and yet, for some reason, she doesn’t mind it.

He kisses her right before her peak, and she can taste herself on his mouth. Her vision turns white, and she bites his lip so hard that she draws blood. She can taste the salty tang of it on her lips as well.

She is vaguely aware of him spilling his seed inside of her, and then pulling out. He pulls her close to him and buries his face in her hair. The frantic activity of the past few days hits her all at once and she is pulled into the warm embrace of sleep.


End file.
